


while my friends were getting high/i was losing my mind

by PrinceDrew



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, At the start, Bittersweet, Comedy, Don't worry it doesn't go there, Fluff, Getting high, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jeremy has issues, Just two friends talking, M/M, Marijuana, Michael has issues, Post-Squip, Starts out fluffier than it is, and a cat, more friendship than shippy but it's there, shitty parents, tell me if anything else needs tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 16:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12657021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDrew/pseuds/PrinceDrew
Summary: "Come over to mine after school," Michael told him, practically vibrating as he did. "We can get high in my bedroom together.""Not basement?" Jeremy asked him, frowning slightly."Oh, you know," Michael continued, but he looked away, at his shoes, rubbing the back of his neck, mumbling what he said next. "Parents are on a business trip again."Jeremy was about to question that, about to ask if Michael's dad had just taken off again, but then he remembered they were in the cafeteria, surround by people he considered friends but Michael didn't, who didn't know what Michael's parents were like, and so he just nodded, and kept his mouth shut.





	while my friends were getting high/i was losing my mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quenti/gifts).



For as long as Jeremy had known Michael, Michael had a list of things he wouldn’t do at school.

One of those things had only been around for as long as Michael had been smoking pot - never show up to school high. Not because it was against the school rules or anything, but because Michael considered it a waste of a perfectly good high.

Another thing was to show up without his hoodie. It had been a present from his brother, Nicky, back when Michael was fourteen and he was leaving for college and, oversized then and just fitting right in junior year, and it was so ingrained in Jeremy’s image of Michael, he’d honestly forgotten what his arms looked like. The patches had all been gifts sent by Nicky too.

And one of those things you wouldn’t notice Michael never did unless you paid close attention was eat the cafeteria food.

It was something about the texture or taste. Something about too much salt. Either way, it was enough that Michael would choose to sneak off campus during his lunch to drive to any one of the fast food joints littered around their town, or even just to the food court at the mall. Most of the time, if Jeremy caught up to him in time, they’d go together, and then sneak back into the cafeteria and sit with everyone, sharing food if there was enough, but some days Michael brought food from home.

That was one of Michael’s more stricter rules, so something immediately registered in Jeremy’s mind as _wrong_ when Michael approached their table at lunch, a tray of cafeteria food in his hands.

Maybe it was more obvious than Jeremy thought, because Chloe raised her eyebrows when Michael sat down, across from her and Jeremy.

“No KFC?” she asked, eyeing what appeared to be a turkey burger and fries. It looked to have roughly half the salt of the Dead Sea, a fact which was confirmed when Michael winced as soon as he took a bite. Jeremy slid his Fanta across the table to him, to which Michael shot him a grateful look.

“Thanks, man,” he muttered after he swallowed, picking up the bottle and twisting off the top, practically downing half the bottle before putting it back down and turning back to Chloe. “The KFC here’s gone downhill in like, two months flat. Can’t risk it. ‘Sides, food here is cheaper.”

Chloe and Jeremy just stared at him for a moment.

“Michael,” Chloe said, slowly and simply as if explaining it to a toddler. “It isn't. It really, really isn't. That cost you five bucks, didn't it?”

Michael's only response was to not respond, but Jeremy understood. He got it without even thinking about.

On its own, food from the cafeteria cost more. But that wasn't counting gas money. Gas money Michael normally got from his parents.

Maybe he was reading too much into it. It certainly seemed that way when Rich and Jenna sat down with them, and didn't comment on Michael’s lack of fast food, Rich even producing two more drinks from out of his back to help Michael combat the sodium situation.

“Dude,” Jeremy said, eying the radioactive green ‘M’ on the front of the cans, “don't give Michael energy drinks.”

“Pfft, what harm can it do?” Rich asked, grinning as Michael proceed to down half a can. “It's only Monster.”

Jeremy just stared at Rich for a moment. “A lot, Rich. It can do a lot of harm.”

“You're exaggerating,” Michael told them, now squished between Rich and Jenna, who had asked Michael to slide up one so she could tell Chloe about someone who was bitching about Brooke. “I'm not that bad on energy drinks.”

“Jenna,” Jeremy called, causing the aforementioned girl to pause midway through a sentence, looking at him expectedly, “who holds the freshman record for 100m and 200m dash but not the 400m dash because he just collapsed halfway through the track?”

“Michael,” she said automatically, before turning back to Chloe to explain exactly what Madeline’s allergies that could be found in makeup were.

“That,” Jeremy told Rich, “was the last Michael last time had Monster.”

“And it was a glorious day,” Michael said.

“You went to the hospital.”

“A glorious day,” Michael repeated with an almost dreamy sigh. The ratio of food eaten to drink drunken was a little too imbalanced for Jeremy’s liking, but it wasn't like he could reach across the table and feed Michael.

“That was Michael?” Rich asked. “I didn't know it was you. I thought that kid died, not gonna lie.”

“Some say he did.”

“You are literally right here in front of us,” Jeremy said. He felt Michael’s leg under the table bouncing up and down already, the other foot twisting back and forth.  
“In body, yes. In spirit? Who knows,” Michael said, starting to chug the can of Monster gifted to him.

Humans as a species were not designed to last, and Monster Energy is proof of that, Jeremy decided.

For a while, all they did was talk about what they had next. Jake and Christine were panic-writing essays together for History in the library - or rather, Jake was panic-writing and Christine was there for moral support - which Jeremy shared with them, and Rich and Michael were complaining about having Drama with Mr. Reyes again - “Dude, he still hates me and I have no idea why. I apologised for being like I was and all.” - when Michael whipped his head around to Jeremy, his foot kicking Jeremy in the shin as he did.

“What the fuck, man?” Jeremy asked, rubbing his shin.

"Come over to mine after school," Michael told him, practically vibrating as he did. "We can get high in my bedroom together."

Bedroom. He said bedroom.

"Not basement?" Jeremy asked him, frowning slightly. Rich was watching them, eyes flicking back and forth.

"Oh, you know," Michael continued, but he looked away, at his shoes, rubbing the back of his neck, mumbling what he said next. "Parents are on a business trip again."

Jeremy was about to question that, about to ask if Michael's dad had just taken off again, but then he remembered they were in the cafeteria, surround by people he considered friends but Michael didn't, who didn't know what Michael's parents were like, and so he just nodded, and kept his mouth shut.

“Need to go shopping first,” he told Michael, to which Michael looked up, and grinned and nodded, and then they launched into a discussion of cheat codes, and whether or not they should use them in Apocalypse of the Damned, which lasted until Rich started discussing his zombie apocalypse plans, and then devolved into a table wide argument as to if it was better to stick civilisation or leg it into the wilderness in case of an actual zombie attack, and that lasted until the bell rang for the end of lunch.

Michael had managed to go through one bottle of Fanta and two Monsters, and his lunch was still only half eaten, but he had took off before Jeremy had been able to say anything.

Everyone at the table was silent for a moment, before they all slowly turned to look at Jeremy.

“...is he going to be okay?” Chloe asked him, eyes flicking over to the cafeteria door. From the sounds of it, Michael had already knocked down approximately five freshman and one senior.

There was a part of Jeremy that wanted to tell them the truth right there. Tell them that he didn’t know, and he hoped so, and that they just kinda had to be there for Michael.

But he didn’t. Because they didn’t know Michael.

Instead, he just stood up, collected Michael’s food to dispose off, told Rich he said not to give Michael energy drinks, and left.

Halfway through last period, his phone buzzed with several texts all in a row.

‘DUDE’ That was from Rich. Of course. It was always either Michael, Rich, or the group chat that talked to Jeremy.

‘Dude?’ he sent back.

‘DUDE’  
‘D U D E’  
‘D U D E’  
‘MiKeY jUST FAINTED IN DRAMA.’

‘Yeah, that’s what Monster does with him. That’s why he’s not allowed it’.

Jeremy Heere, the sole voice of fucking reason within his friendship group.

‘FOR REAL?????’  
‘I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING’  
‘it was actually v funny tho’  
‘bc we were just watching this girl give this shitty ass monologue’  
‘and Mikey just w e n t’  
‘like full on just flopped to floor out of his chair’  
‘and mr reyes he just’  
‘gasped like’  
‘G A S P’  
‘u can tell this dude wanted to be an actor’  
‘and why he failed’  
‘so he went up to mikey’  
‘and no joke’  
‘he just cried out ‘hE’S FAINTED’  
‘with fucking razzle dazzle jazzle hands of all things’  
‘but all u need to know is that i’m taking him home and i need to know his car k thx bye xxx’

‘The PT Cruiser but he doesn’t like anyone else driving it’  
‘And jazzle isn’t a word, Rich’

It had taken Jeremy two months to be even allowed to sit in the driver’s seat for a minute. It was a shitty car, but it was Michael’s shitty car, as his best friend once proclaimed.

‘thats too bad bc he’s too out of it to be driving’  
‘can u send me his address as well??’  
‘love u boo xxx’

Jeremy did, before handing his phone over to Mrs Begara, who had been standing over him for most of the text exchange. He settled back down in his chair, glancing at the clock, and letting worry and anxiety settle in his stomach, ignoring the glances Brooke gave him as he tried to translate French back into English but somehow ended up writing a little in Spanish before the bell freed him.

True to his word, before he went to Michael’s, Jeremy stopped by the grocery store, a text from Rich assuring him Michael was safe at his home and ‘his cat hates me :(‘. He ended up buying a mix of actual fresh food and ready-made microwavable meals, because he knew sometimes Michael liked cooking, but most times he just wanted to curl up in his bed and hoped food was brought to him.

Which was kind of what Jeremy was doing, in a way.

There was no need to knock on the door, because only Michael’s car was in the driveway, so Jeremy let himself in. The hallway was how he remembered it being, but there was only set of keys on the hook, not as many coats as there should have been, and only Michael’s shoes and his mom’s house slippers were in the shoe rack.

God. His dad seemed serious this time.

“Michael?” Jeremy called up into the house, only for silence to call back at him. “I brought food!”

Still nothing. Not even the pit-pat of cat paws that normally occurred when Jeremy yelled into the house. So he did what he always did and left the bags of food in Michael's kitchen for him to discover later, and went to Michael’s room himself, not even knocking on the door and instead edging it open.

Michael was lying face down on his bed, not moving, his glasses on the bedside dresser, his hoodie and shirt riding up his back. JJ, a chubby dark brown tabby with white socks, was there too, sat on the window sill, just watching Michael with his sole green eye - his left one, the right had been gone years before Michael had adopted him - glancing at Jeremy for only a moment before turning back to his owner.

For a moment, Jeremy didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak.

Michael wasn’t meant to be still like that.

“So Rich tells me you fainted,” he ended up saying, because it was something. “Told you shouldn’t have had monster.”

He was promptly flipped off.

“You didn’t,” said the boy who was still face down in about three different pillows. “You told Rich not to give me them. You never said ‘Michael, don’t drink Monster’. Therefore, I was fine with drinking all the monster I want.” There was a pause. “Rich started calling me Floppy on the way home. I think it’s my name in the groupchat now.”

“It isn’t,” Jeremy assured him. “It’s ‘floppy headphones’.”

Michael groaned, hand dropping back down.

“Fucks sake man,” he said. “Today - Today’s just sucked.”

He finally pushed himself up, turning around to face Jeremy, squinting to look at him without his glasses on. At least he was moving now, his leg jittering a little. That was good. Michael wasn’t Michael if he wasn’t moving.

Once, when they were little, Michael had told Jeremy it felt he was made of electricity some days, like there was a current, a spark that ran through him and his veins and he had to keep moving, keep moving or else he’d stop all together.

“That must be awful,” Jeremy had said back then, and Michael had squinted at him because this was back before Michael had glasses, and shrugged.

“It's what I'm used to,” he had told Jeremy, before charging off and running into a tree. 

Michael had always been told off for fidgeting at school, but the only time Jeremy could imagine Michael being still was Michael not being…

…well. He didn't want to explore that thought. 

“Do you want to talk about it or…” Jeremy shrugged, and Michael laughed, except he didn’t. Not a real laugh. Not a laugh Jeremy liked.

“I just kinda… not wanna exist for a while,” he admitted. “Like, not die or anything but like. A nap. Just sleep until everything's okay again.” He blinked twice, smiling at Jeremy like it was the only thing holding him together. “He left a note. Can you believe that? A fucking note. He’s gone to Delaware. Fucking - Fucking Delaware. I forgot that was even a place until today. Mom followed him, because of course she did.”

Jeremy nodded, because there was nothing else he could say, because Michael’s parents -

Well. Michael’s parents.

Michael’s parents were what Jeremy’s mom would have described as ‘nice, but not people who should be parents’ before she decided to be one of those people herself.

Michael’s parents were perfectly nice people who were happy together, having met in a rom-com situation where his dad was a flight attendant and his mom ended up on most of his flights, and they bonded, and fell in love, and Michael’s dad quit being a flight attendant to begin working at home, and they had two kids, and it was all very much a perfect lovey-dovey bullshit ending.

But Michael’s dad had something wrong with him.

They were never told the specific illness. Just that he was sick, ill, not right in the head, and he sometimes got the idea he had to run, and escape everything. Just that he liked to travel places and not tell people, and Michael’s mom had to follow him to make sure he was okay, to tell him to come home.

And Michael and Nicky were always left behind.

One of Jeremy’s earliest memories was waking him up in the middle of the night when he was about six, and being told by his dad that Michael and his brother were sleeping over for a week, maybe even more, wasn’t that fun?

And it was. Until the next day at school Michael had started crying because he wanted his mom.

So it went like that, on and off throughout their childhood. Michael’s dad would do a runner, his mom would follow him, and Michael and his brother would stay at Jeremy’s.

“That just sucks,” Jeremy said because, well, it did. “But you do know we border with Delaware, right?”

Michael blinked twice. “No shit?”

“No shit,” Jeremy said, sitting down on the bed next to Michael. He still had his backpack on. “Not surprised you forgot that though. You were, what, a C student when you did Geography?”

“Dude, don't mock my inability to name all fifty-two states.”

“There's only fifty.”

“What the shit?” Jeremy would have laughed if Michael still didn't look so close to tears. “Where did the other two go?”

JJ had now stepped down from the window sill, choosing pad over to Michael and curl up in his lap, purring all the while. Michael started to scratch him behind his ears, like it was just instinct to do so.

“Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands aren't states,” Jeremy told him, shrugging. “I think they're like territory or something? They're just not states.”

Michael stared at Jeremy for a moment more, before flopping back onto his bed with a groan. JJ remained unperturbed by this development. 

“Mandela Effect, man,” Michael muttered. “I'm telling you, it's real.”

“You just suck at geography, dude.”

“Other people believe it too, Jeremy! We all can't suck at geography!”

The two boys fell into silence again.

“Man,” Michael muttered after a while. “I'm not high enough for this. First my parents take off in the night, then I found out America is down two states. You wanna get high with me or nah?”

“We can't be down two states because we never had them,” Jeremy said, shaking his head. “And I’m gonna skip today. Not in the mood, y’know?”

Well, that was a lie he hadn’t told in a while. But Michael nodded like he understood, already reaching into his bedside drawer. He still hadn’t put his glasses back on, but Jeremy wondered if he even wanted to. He should have because Michael’s eyesight was bad.

Bad enough that when Rich tried Michael’s glasses on one time, he had promptly yelled into the entire cafeteria “Dude, this is like an LSD trip!”, and was shortly afterwards found to be lecturing freshman on the dangers of drug abuse.

“Just warning you, if you change your mind, we’re shotgunning it,” Michael warned him, as if they hadn’t before. As if that wasn’t the way they preferred getting high.

The first time they got high together, they had try shotgunning via the cupped hands method, but Michael was too jittery, and Jeremy was too nervous, so they ended up doing it mouth-to-mouth, which was. Well. Technically it wasn’t a kiss. But Jeremy still liked how Michael’s lips felt against his. How warm they were. Just how - just how nice it was.

He didn’t tell Michael how much he liked it. There was never any need to.

“Like you have a problem with that,” he ended up saying, and Michael flipped him off again, and then they didn’t talk for a while as Michael rolled a joint and lit it, JJ finally hopping off his chest to perch back on the window sill, and both the cat and Jeremy watched Michael slowly inhaled and exhaled the smoke.

There wasn’t a need to talk. That was the good thing about their friendship. That they could sometimes just sit, and not talk, because talking was a little too much sometimes.

It was good when they talked, because that meant everything was okay. But a lot of times thing weren’t okay, and non-verbal was easier than verbal, and sometimes they just needed to be not themselves or pretend they weren’t existing, and that was okay.

“...JJ’s giving me a disappointed look, isn’t he?” Michael asked eventually, after maybe ten minutes.

“He’s just staring at you,” Jeremy said. “You know, like he normally does.”

“Yeah, but, in a disappointed way, right?” Jeremy chose not to dignify that with a comment. “Fucking knew it. It’s cause I didn’t bring any catnip for him.”

“JJ doesn’t get high off catnip, remember?”

Michael just groaned, and JJ just kept staring at his owner.

“That’s why he’s disappointed, because I’m rubbing it in his face that he can’t get high,” Michael explained, and he was definitely stoned, because that was Stoned Michael logic. “It’s okay, JJ. I’m going to ground myself for you.”

JJ purred, stepping off the windowsill again to curl up beside Michael, who brought his hand down to stroke his cat.

“I don’t think JJ cares, dude,” Jeremy said, sighing. He still had his shoes on, so he toed them off, kicking them a little under Michael’s bed. He probably wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

“I care,” Michael told him. “I care. Man, this cat’s a better dad to me than my actual dad.” That seemed to spark an idea in him, because he sat up, grinning, pointing at Jeremy with lazy finger guns. “I’m gonna emancipate from him.”

Oh. Oh God.

“Michael, _no_ ,” Jeremy huffed, crossing his arms and frowning at his friend.

“Michael, _yes_ ,” he said. “It’s perfect. I mean, you can't have daddy issues if you don't have a dad.

Stoned Michael Logic seemed to make sense in the moment. Seemed to.

 

“That is the opposite of how it works and you know it,” Jeremy ended up saying, to which Michael just shrugged, and fell back onto his bed.

It wasn’t fair to call Michael’s issues ‘daddy issues’, because that implied it was just his dad to blame.

Michael had abandonment issues. Michael had other issues. Issues with how he looked, issues with how he behaved, issues with what other people thought of him. In fact, Michael had so many issues he had shoved them all in a mental box he called the 'let's not talk about this until therapy' box.

It wasn’t as though Jeremy didn’t have issues. Fuck, he had taken something that could have killed him on the advice of a kid who used to - well. Torment was a strong word. Bully didn’t quite fit. But the point stood. He wasn’t one to talk.

Fuck, and Jeremy hadn’t helped him at all, had he?

Not that night, at least. Not Halloween.

And he wanted to apologise again, tongue burning with the desire to do so - apologise for the SQUIP incident, for leaving Michael, for causing him to break down into a panic attack while in a bathroom, the house burning around him - but he knew he had apologised enough. Too many times. Michael had told him as such. Told him to stop bringing it up, it was fine, they were fine, Jeremy had more than made up for it.

But he hadn’t. Not really. He wasn’t sure if he ever could. He just had to keep trying. Just had to be there for Michael.

But it wouldn’t have help right then. Not when Michael wasn’t upset about it.

“...Hey,” Michael piped up, staring up at the ceiling, still stroking JJ as the cat purred beside him, halfway onto a nap, “d’you remember when I got JJ? We were what, ten?”

“...Yeah. You were ten, I was nine,” Jeremy replied, rubbing the back of his neck, unsurety creeping into his voice. “He was your birthday present, remember?”

Michael nodded in a way that said ‘yeah, kinda’, closing his eyes as he did.

“Didn’t we go down to the shelter together?” he asked, voice sounding almost hazy. “Like, my mom took us and we both picked him out?”

They did. It was a room full of cats, a lot of them old and lazy - even JJ was older than they thought, being about three - some younger and hyper. Nearly all of them were smaller and thinner than JJ, but Michael had set his heart on JJ, then called ‘Brownie’, which Michael’s mom still called him by. Honestly, it was lucky it was before they could message each other online, because Jeremy was sure that he’d be spammed with pictures of the cat otherwise.

“We did,” Jeremy said at last, reaching over to stroke JJ himself. “I’m glad you picked him out. He’s a good cat.”

Michael opened his eyes again, a soft smile on his face as he sat up. “You want to know how I know that?” he asked. “He was the only cat there who liked you. Out of what, twenty cats? He was the only one that didn’t scratch you.”

JJ hadn’t approached the boys. He had watched from the corner of the room, and had simply stretched out when Jeremy came for him, purring as he stroked the cat, not even startled when Michael began to yell he wanted that cat.

On the way back to Michael’s house, his dad had asked if they were going to keep the name Brownie. Michael immediately shot that down, insisting the tabby was called Jeremy Junior. JJ for short.

“...And then the day after we got JJ my dad fucked off to Mali,” Michael continued, the smile fading, and then he laughed, like he couldn’t help it. “The day after my birthday. Just - Who does that? To - To Mali? To a ten year old kid? I - I mean, what’s the point? If you’re gonna bring two fucking kids into the world but only stick around when you feel like it? I mean - fuck - was I that bad as a kid?”

He just kept laughing, but that awful, hideous choking sob-laughter, not real laughter, and Jeremy’s chest clenched as he watched his best friend.

“Michael -” he tried.

“Yeah, no, it’s okay,” Michael said, gasping a little, wiping at his eyes, curling up in on himself, hugging his knees close to his chest. “I’m okay. I’m fine. Hunky shitting dory. Yeah. I’m - I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Jeremy said, moving closer to him now, one hand coming to rest on Michael’s knee as he just looked at him. “And you know that.”

Michael just nodded, biting his lip, gazing at Jeremy.

“You - you do know it’s okay to not be okay, yeah?” Jeremy asked, his insides quivering like a leaf caught in a breeze. “You don’t have to hold it together all the time.”

Michael kept silent for a little while. He still hadn’t put his glasses back on, and he looked a little lost without them.

“...yeah,” Michael said at last, nodding. “I just - sometimes wonder if they’d even noticed if I just… left. Like… if I just disappeared on them.”

“...you mean like…” He didn’t want to finish that sentence. He couldn’t.

That was another thing Michael had issues with. Staying alive. And Jeremy knew that sometimes, Michael would just - just give up, and not really care about safety, like seat belts, or looking when he crossed the road. He knew that sometimes, Michael would go to the old train station, and wait, as if a train would pass by, or that he’d drive to the bridge and would sit, his legs hanging off the edge.

“...No,” Michael said at last, his voice barely a whisper. “No, I - I couldn’t leave you like that. Just like. Running away or something.”

Jeremy nodded, and then because he didn’t know what else to do, couldn’t bring himself to say anything, he hugged Michael. He smelt of weed, and Monster, and sweat, and it wasn’t nice or anything, but Jeremy couldn’t let Michael go.

After a moment or so, Michael hugged him back. He was trembling, and his finger dug into Jeremy, but his face was hidden in Jeremy’s shoulder, and it sounded like he was trying not to cry.

“Stay?” he asked, voice muffled, and thick, and shaking. “Stay the night?”

“Course I will,” Jeremy told him. “I’m not gonna leave you like this. Hey.”

Michael peered up at him, and Jeremy smiled at him as best as he could.

“How about an early night, yeah?” he said, pulling his best friend even tighter together. “Things will seem better in the morning.”

They wouldn’t. Not really.

Michael’s parents wouldn’t be back in the morning. There was still all of the food Jeremy had brought for him, and Michael’s issues wouldn’t be gone overnight. He’d be fragile for a few days. He wouldn’t be himself for a few days.

Tomorrow, though, tomorrow they could skip school, and stay home to play nothing but video games. They could go to the mall or go driving, far far away from this town, just keep going and going and going until it was like nothing behind them. Fuck, they could even just go to a nearby field and blast music and get high and dance like nobody cared.

Though things wouldn’t okay.

But as Michael nodded at Jeremy and smiled back, shy and sweet and little hopeful, he couldn’t help but believe that maybe they would.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, uh, this was a thing.
> 
> I kinda rushed the ending there, a little, but I like it. Could do with a lot more work, but it's finished, it's done with. There was a lot of stuff I left out, so maybe I'll return to this with a rewrite. Who knows.
> 
> First BMC fic and it involves Michael crying. Go me.
> 
> Title is from the Bleacher's 'I wanna get better', because who doesn't?
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this fic! If you have any questions, liked the fic, have feedback or noticed any mistakes, post in the comments below, or at my tumblr [here](http://princedrewwrites.tumblr.com). I'm getting better at using it, I swear! Or, if you just liked the fic and don't want to say anything, just leave a kudos. There's no pressure either way


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